


Love Me Tender

by high_functioning_hobo



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-05
Updated: 2012-11-05
Packaged: 2017-11-18 00:30:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/554902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/high_functioning_hobo/pseuds/high_functioning_hobo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock dance at a wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Me Tender

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was born purely out of my selfish need to see it happen, and my utter love for Elvis singing Love Me Tender. I got an attack of the feels while listening to the song and this is the result. I wrote this in a flourish at 3 am, it isn't a masterpiece, but it's good enough for here. If you want to listen to the song while reading ( I did a thousand times while writing) This is my favourite version of it [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HZBUb0ElnNY] Enjoy :)

“Do we still have to go to the reception?”

 

John Watson ignored the grumpy voice carrying from the bedroom and continued to knot his tie in peace. John made it a rule not to lose his temper before 9 am. It was 8.49, and he would remain calm. 

“Are you even listening to me?” the voice from the bedroom came again; pitch tuned slightly higher to annoyance. 

 

“Check your watch and try again in 11 minutes Sherlock.” John said calmly. He will not let Sherlock break his rule. He walks over to the bedroom to find the lanky detective buttoning up his shirt. 

 

“But you decided to get dressed anyway. I was under the impression that I was going to have to drag you out of bed and argue until you decide to get dressed”, John said with a smirk.

 

“I relish the days when you do exactly the opposite” Sherlock replied slyly, “Anyway since we’re already in Devon and both of us are almost dressed, I thought one last attempt to change your mind wasn’t going to do any harm.”

 

“It’s Sarah’s wedding, my boss Sarah’s wedding, I couldn’t exactly say no. And after you got her kidnapped by a Chinese mob boss the least you can do is behave at her wedding and sit pretty next to me.”

 

“Fine,” Sherlock says nonchalantly, but without annoyance.

 

“And wear a tie” John admonishes.

 

“Fine,” Sherlock repeats himself. 

John is glad Sherlock did finally decide to come with him. Weddings are naturally not Sherlock Holmes preferred choice of environment, but this was one John could absolutely not avoid. Normally he wouldn’t drag Sherlock into situations that required an excess of socialization than he was comfortable with. He had his boundaries and John respected them. But this was Sarah’s wedding, not only his boss but his ex. And the rest of his colleagues would be there. Showing up alone and leaving his madman alone at Baker Street was awkward and uncomfortable (and the chance of him returning to a blown up flat increased significantly). There was another reason of course. It was only now, going over his reflection in the mirror, that John cared to admit it to himself. He’d miss him. Was it such a hard thing to admit, that he’d miss his boyfriend? They were both adults, they both cared for each other, and yet although Sherlock had thrown a tantrum, and argued, and been obnoxious about going he’d said yes anyway. Maybe it just didn’t need saying. 

 

Sherlock walked out of the room dressed impeccably, save for his curl rebelliously settling in whatever direction they pleased. He gave John one of those impenetrable stares, making eye contact through the mirror. God the man was so ridiculously attractive, John thought to himself. He gave him a smiling nod of approval and Sherlock straightened his jacket. 

 

“Come on,” John said, turning on his heels and pecking Sherlock lightly on the cheek, “This should be fun.”

 

___

 

Sarah and Howard’s wedding is thoroughly quite pleasant. There aren’t many people, family and friends mostly. It isn’t energetic or raunchy or trying to be innovatively creative in every way. A simple ceremony in a lovely converted farmhouse in Devon. Quite unusually, the weather is being pleasant, and so the celebrations are moved to the gardens of the property, which was quite alive with blooming flowers. The only three children there, of course, took this as an opportunity to run around until they exhausted themselves. 

Even Sherlock has to admit the whole affair isn’t quite as unpleasant as he expected it to be. John’s colleagues are decidedly polite and Sherlock makes an effort not to point out that the secretary’s husband is cheating on her with a man. Or that the head of surgery is addicted to morphine (really a room full of doctors, you’d think one of them would have noticed the symptoms). Still John is with him and that makes everything significantly less tedious. On the other hand he was here because of John. The two just went hand in hand now a day. When another doctor asks about his line of work and snickers in his face, Sherlock manages to only minimally insult his intelligence and insinuate he was stealing medical supplies. Still the small number of people that overheard got a chuckle out of it, sending the man sulking away, embarrassed. 

 

“What, no ‘Sherlock behave’ s today?”, he challenges cockily in John’s direction.

 

“He’s the office prick, you’re allowed.”

John is practically beaming. Its enough to keep Sherlock only slightly rude to the rest of humanity for the remainder of the evening. 

 

When they sit down at a table later in the evening, neither of them is quite realizing that they are actually quite enjoying themselves. The music has mellowed and they are a safe distance away not to be dragged back into mingling. There is a bottle of wine on the table, which they soon empty, and another follows when Sherlock steals it away from another table. They are soon shaking with giggles as Sherlock makes horribly inappropriate deductions about everyone. 

 

“Sarah’s cousin, the nineteen year old has been snogging in the bushes,” Sherlock says, hardly keeping his voice steady, “With Howard’s 40 year old uncle!” He can barely finish his sentence before exploding into giggles again. 

 

“She is not !” John says indignantly, but when they see the perpetually single uncle grabbing the girl’s arse from behind a table, they can’t even look at each other without the threat of exploding with laughter. 

 

Their giggly banter goes on until their sides ache from shaking. They are still for a while and Sherlock notices that John has suddenly gone unnaturally silent. He is puzzled, they were enjoying themselves so much only a second ago. John is looking at the couples dancing on the grass, as he steals a glance at Sherlock and hurriedly looks back at the dance. This doesn’t go unnoticed from Sherlock. He can’t possibly fathom what’s wrong until he stops and listens to the carrying music. 

“Love me tender, love me sweet, never let me go.”

 

The song. John likes the song. And that’s when Sherlock realizes that never in a lifetime will John ever ask him to do something he doesn’t want to, and that will include asking him to dance. John wants to dance. With him. He wants to dance to this particular song with him. To deduce exactly why wasn’t that difficult. 

 

“John,” Sherlock speaks softly, “do you want to ..” He motions towards the people dancing with a nod.

 

“Ah .. er .. no, no, people might see.” John stumbles, clearly surprised and trying to curb his enthusiasm.

 

Sherlock doesn’t heed his answer. He waits a moment and grabs John by the hand, leading him roughly behind a nearby bush. John is still struggling to put together what’s going to happen next when Sherlock grabs his hip to pull him close to him. 

 

“Oh god Sherlock not here, we’re at a wedding!”

 

“Shut up and listen you idiot” Sherlock chastises him softly

“Love me tender, love me true, all my dreams fulfilled.”

 

John stops, and he meets Sherlock’s eyes. That’s when he knows why they’re there. It doesn’t need saying. 

They move closer together, their bodies touching. Sherlock takes one of John’s hands and they sway steadily to the music. 

 

“Love me tender, love me long, take me to your heart.”

 

John rests his head into Sherlock’s neck. All he can breathe is Sherlock.

 

“For it’s there that I belong, and we’ll never part.”

 

Sherlock holds John tight to him. John is leaning into him as his arm draped across his back secures him, makes sure he isn’t going to move. They move as one body to the music. Anyone could barge into them, the building could be on fire and they wouldn’t even notice, wouldn’t even budge. 

 

“Love me tender, love me dear, tell me you are mine. I’ll be yours through all the years, till the end of time.”

 

They are transfixed. They couldn’t let go of each other if they tried. They wouldn’t want to let go of each other. Time has stopped. There is no time. There is only Sherlock and John. John and Sherlock. Everything else is irrelevant, everything else isn’t there. 

 

“You have made my life complete, and I love you so.”

 

They hold on to each other like anchors. The music carries, even as the song stops. They dare not move an inch, lest they shatter the crystalline illusion of the world they have created for themselves. They just stay there, standing, holding, being with each other. Sherlock’s arm locks John to him. All John’s body can process is Sherlock. They are simply being in each other’s embrace. They hold on to the only thing that’s real. They don’t need to look at each other. It doesn’t need saying.

 

___

 

The moonlight pours through the open window as a light breeze carries the curtains upwards, allowing them to billow of their own accord. John trails his fingers over Sherlock’s stomach, cuddling as close to him as possible. Sherlock is lying face up on the bed, eyes closed but not asleep. The room smells of wild flowers and sex. There is a blissful silence, an enchantment that lingers and warns that it cannot be broke. They enjoy it while they can, bask in it, and the comfort of each other’s presence. 

“I love you.” John blurts out, with his head resting on Sherlock’s chest. He is being lulled to sleep by Sherlock’s steady heartbeat. Sherlock laces his fingers through John’s, resting them on his stomach.

 

“I know” Sherlock says without opening his eyes. “I know”

 

It doesn’t need saying.


End file.
